


Sherlocked in Tesco

by how_about_no



Series: Christmas Collection [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (i needed a fun title), (not necessarily tesco), Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Shopping, Fluff, Locked In, M/M, basically they're locked in a shop so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9025525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/how_about_no/pseuds/how_about_no
Summary: John Watson is usually brilliant at last minute Christmas shopping, but this Christmas Eve, he ends up locked in a shopping centre after closing time. Good thing Sherlock Holmes is there to keep him company and beat him as board games.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I DID IT
> 
> HALF AN HOUR BEFORE CHRISTMAS BUT I DID IT FUCK YOU NON BELIEVERS
> 
> ROBYN IS STILL ON SCHEDULE YAAASSSS
> 
> Anyway here you go, have some johnlock christmas fluffiness.  
> tjlc is real and I'm going to bed

Last minute Christmas shopping was usually chaos for most people. Most people weren’t John, though. He had perfected the art of slipping through crowds and jumping for things he couldn’t reach. That was the only time he would admit that he was short, mind you. Boasting was the only reason it could happen. _Ever._

The shopping centre near his house was full of fancy shit John loved to stick his hands into. Glossy photo frames, little ornamental trinkets that his mum loved, endless treats and goodies that his step family could rip apart.

One thing that John needed to do to cope, though, was put his earphones in. Crowds, he could take. Being bumped into? Fine. Screaming children and shouting adults were a no-go. If he had to deal with that as well as everything else, he would lose his mind and Christmas would be cancelled. Christmas Eve was a time of high stress and John liked to avoid at least a part of it.

At what John thought was 3:30, a mini fairy statue John had his eye on for his niece fell behind the shelf it was precariously balanced on when he touched it. Panicked, but not having heard a smash, John looked up and down the aisle he was dawdling in to see if anyone witnessed it. Seeing no one, he bit his lip. It was a _really_ nice ornament. Amy would’ve loved it.

He pursed his lips and considered the shelf in front of him. There was some space on the right where he could probably slip in, grab the ornament, and slip out before anyone rounded the corner and saw him crouched down between shelves. Taking in a breath, John put down his basket. At this point, he probably should’ve thought about the fact that no one else was there. It was odd, to say the least.

In a last-minute fit of worry, he kicked his basket away from the shelf so that if it fell it wouldn’t crush all his carefully selected gifts. Then, he sucked his stomach in and went in for the kill.

The gap was deeper than he thought. His whole body was between the shelves, and the gap behind them probably would’ve been enough for him to fit in too, which was good because he had to lean nearly completely into it reach the ornament.

His fingers brushed against a wing, and he silently struggled for a few seconds to grab it between his index and middle finger. Triumphant, he emerged, smiling at the undamaged goods.

One problem.

His basket was gone.

He kicked it away, sure, but not far. It should have been in front of the stuffed animals. Instead, it was nowhere to be seen. Just as he was going to investigate down the other end of the aisle, all the lights shut off.

Brilliant.

Quickly, John pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. This place shouldn’t close until at least half four, and it was only- half past four. Dammit. Time must’ve got away from him.

“Shit,” He muttered to himself before running for the door.

Locked.

He punched against it and yelled.

“I’m still in here!” Goddammit. No one was there, “Hello!” Maybe the guard was just around the corner. If he only shouted louder-

“They won’t be coming back.”

John whirled around at the voice, his hackles raised. In front of him was a suited man with dark, curly hair and a blank expression.

“They always stay all night,” John smiled slightly, “They can’t just leave the centre unattended, someone would break in.”

“Exactly,” The man said, like it was obvious. John narrowed his eyes at him, and was just about to ask who the hell he thought he was when the man started talking again, “How else am I meant to catch the Richmond killer?”

“The Richmond-” John repeated dumbly- “You’re investigating a murder in a shopping centre? Who are you?”

“Sherlock Holmes,” The man, Sherlock, smiled too broadly, “So,” He took a step forward, his smile disappearing as quickly as it had appeared, “Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Sorry?”

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock repeated.

“Afghanistan,” John answered, feeling a little exposed. How the hell did this guy know anything about his military past? He looked down to make sure he wasn’t wearing anything that told of it, “How did you-?”

“It’s obvious,” Sherlock stepped even closer and leaned forward slightly. John was just about to move away when Sherlock grabbed something from behind him. A bouncy ball. He stepped away again and threw it to the ground before catching it with his left hand.

“Oh really?” John raised his eyebrows, “If you’re here to catch the Richmond killer, then how do you know I’m not him?”

“Because it’s a woman, first of all,” Sherlock smirked, not looking at John, but instead bouncing the ball again, “And you are clearly not capable of raping and killing three men just for the fun of it.”

“Clearly,” John repeated, dumbfounded, “I read the paper. It didn’t say they were raped.”

“Of course it didn’t,” Sherlock laughed, “The media doesn’t think a woman could rape a man. It’s supposedly biologically impossible.”

“Okay,” John was becoming more confused by the second, and just wanted to get home, “Do you know how I can get out of here?”

“Nope,” Sherlock said, popping the ‘p’ at the same time as throwing down the ball. He caught it once more, then threw it directly at John’s face. On reflex, John caught it, his heart hammering for a few seconds. Sherlock had a small smile on his face as he took in John’s entire body. It sent a shiver down his spine.

“Good reflexes,” Sherlock assessed, “You’ll do nicely. Come with me.”

Sherlock starting walking away, and accepting his supposed role as the assistant for however long they were stuck in here, John followed.

“Where exactly-” John licked his lips- “are we going?”

“Pet aisle.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Do try to,” Sherlock glanced over his shoulder, “The Richmond killer has been leaving dog toys at every crime scene. A comment on what she thinks all men are. They came from this shop. All of them. The murders have been happening periodically every Sunday for three weeks. That means she’ll be back tonight.”

“How could you possibly-” John sighed- “Why tonight? Couldn’t she have a stock of them?”

“Yes,” Sherlock tilted his head, “But this store hasn’t sold any in the last month, and when I checked the inventory, one has gone missing every Saturday for three weeks. Why none of these _idiots_ noticed nor cared, I have no idea. All we have to do now-” Sherlock stopped walking and gestured for John to enter the aisle before him- “is wait.”

“Why am I here, then?”

“Well,” Sherlock awkwardly put his hands in his pockets, “We may need a doctor if I- accidentally- hurt her.”

“Accidentally.”

“Accidentally,” Sherlock nodded.

It was around ten minutes later when John spoke again. Sherlock was sat across from him, leaning on one of the shelves with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. It was hard not to stare. Every time John looked away and tried to focus on something else, his eyes always drifted back to the man who seemed to know everything about him.

To be perfectly honest, it didn’t scare him. Sherlock wasn’t scary, and didn’t seem obsessed or like he could’ve been stalking John for a long time. It was one of the explanations John had come up with in the last few minutes, but it didn’t stick. Maybe it was because he was insanely attractive, but John felt an automatic trust towards the other man.

It was mad, really.

“How did you know about Afghanistan?”

“Hm?” Sherlock replied, not bothering to move, or open his eyes.

“Earlier, you asked me, ‘Afghanistan or Iraq’?”

“A simple deduction,” Sherlock smiled slightly, head still tipped back, “You have a tan, but not beyond your wrists. That tells me you’ve been outside, somewhere sunny, but not for a holiday. The way you hold yourself says military, but I can see the edge of a hospital ID sticking out of your pocket. Army doctor, then, invalided and sent home only to become a general practitioner. The only thing I didn’t know was,” Sherlock finally looked at John, “Afghanistan or Iraq.”

“Amazing,” It was slightly dark, so John couldn’t fully see the flurry of emotions that passed over Sherlock’s face, but it was enough when he settled on a smile.

“Thank you.”

“So,” John said after another few minutes of silence, “What are we going to do?”

“Pardon?”

“Until she gets here,” John raised his eyebrows, “We can’t just sit here, waiting. We’ll stiffen up and not be able to do anything when she eventually arrives.”

“What do you suggest?” Sherlock phrased it like a test, like he was assessing John’s response to judge his character.

“They have board games a few aisles over,” John pursed his lips, hoping he got it right.

Sherlock seemed to consider it for a moment before slowly getting to his feet and leading the way without another word.

*

“No, _Sherlock,_ the victim cannot be the killer!”

“They could have faked their death, _John.”_

“No one in real life fakes their death!”

“It’s a good thing that this is a board game, then, because it is the only possible solution.”

“It’s not the only bloody solution! It was Professor Plum!”

“It was Miss Scarlett!”

“ _NO!”_

*

After the disaster that was Cluedo- Sherlock literally pulled out a knife at one point- John suggested Monopoly. It was a classic to play at Christmas. To be fair, John probably should have predicted that Sherlock would wipe the floor with him.

“No,” John put his head in the hands, “Goddammit.”

“Pay up, John,” Sherlock held a hand out, “The rent man is waiting.”

“I can’t afford that! I’ll go bankrupt.”

“Exactly,” Sherlock widened his eyes innocently, “That means I win, doesn’t it?”

“You know, I’m starting to think you lied about not having played this before.”

“I never lie,” Sherlock faked looking affronted and John laughed. It was worrying how quickly he was becoming charmed by the detective. He was like a drug, and John was already hooked.

*

“It’s all in the flick of the wrist,” John threw the mini basketball and it went straight through the hoop and into the bucket underneath, “Now you go.”

Sherlock straightened his blazer and shook his hair out before taking one of the balls John was holding and lining himself up.

“All in the flick of the wrist,” He repeated quietly, then threw the ball… about three feet off its target. John almost laughed until he saw how disappointed Sherlock looked.

“Come on,” John patted Sherlock’s shoulder, then coughed to cover up how much it made him want to smile just to be touching the man, “Let’s try again.”

“I’m usually good at flicking my wrist,” Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the little toy in front of them as if it had personally offended him and John had to cough again to get the damn innuendos out of his head.

*

“Is it Chris?”

“How did you-” John looked at his board, gaping. There were only three characters flipped down, but Sherlock had already guessed it- “How did you know that?!”

“Simple deduction,” Sherlock waved a hand, “I ruled out the others with careful intellect and narrowed thought about your reaction and their hair and clothes-”

“You peeked when I went to the toilet didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

*

“It’s nearly Christmas,” John checked his phone, “Only a few more minutes.”

“What a way to spend it,” Sherlock sighed.

To John, this was the best way to spend it.

“What?” Sherlock said to John’s smile, “Did I say something funny?”

“No,” John’s smile only grew wider, “It’s just- I haven’t been this happy on Christmas in a long time.”

“Oh,” Sherlock pursed his lips, “Me neither.”

“I spend it alone, mostly,” John opened up, staring at his shoes, where they were lined up with Sherlock’s shins on the floor, “Go see family after. Christmas has been hard for a long time.”

“My family is complicated,” Sherlock frowned, “I don’t visit them often.”

“Here’s to being alone,” John mimed holding up a glass, “Together.”

Sherlock looked confused for a moment before raising his own mimed glass. John made a quiet clink noise, and they fell into silence once more.

*

“Merry Christmas, John,” Sherlock said, looking at his watch.

“Merry Christmas, Sherlock.”

*

“John,” Sherlock shook him awake.

“Ah!” John shot up, “Time’s’it?”

“She isn’t coming,” Sherlock said, “A security guard came to tell me they caught her in the act a few streets down.”

“Guess she got her dog toy somewhere else, huh?”

“Maybe she knew I was coming,” Sherlock bit his lip, “Come on.”

It wasn’t long until they were outside, and Sherlock was chatting with a silver haired man who seemed to be more confused than John was throughout nearly the entire night. At one point, the man gestured towards John, and Sherlock followed his gaze. They caught eyes for a moment, and John felt like maybe he should leave. Maybe this was his cue to turn around and walk away from Sherlock forever. Instead, Sherlock smiled and turned back to the man.

“He’s with me,” John read Sherlock’s lips. At least, that’s was he hoped the man said. The silver haired man just nodded, and then Sherlock was walking over to John, his hands in his pockets and a small smile on his face.

“Who’s that?” John asked, in lieu of anything else.

“Lestrade,” Sherlock replied, “He’s the one that caught the Richmond killer.”

“Ah,” John said awkwardly, rocking on his heels.

“Hm,” Sherlock pursed his lips, eyes flicking away from John and back again a few times, “John, I-”

“Fuck it,” John muttered before pulling Sherlock’s face in and kissing the life out of him. It felt right, like puzzle pieces fitting together. At first, the other man was stock still, in shock, but it was only a moment before he was responding in kind.

“Dinner?” Sherlock asked simply when they parted.

“Starving.”

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t the evening anymore, with the sun rising behind them. It didn’t matter that they had only known each other a night, or that it was goddamn Christmas day and neither of them should be out here with police officers and a murder case looming over their heads. John could grow to love this man, and he was going to start now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! tumblr- girlsf0rgirls


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